


no aftermath

by Sartorially



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Game, Barebacking, Biting, Competition, Creampie, Cuddling, Digital Art, Established Relationship, F/M, Fish Puns, Foursome, Humanstuck, Illustrations, M/M, Mild Blood, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Pegging, Pitch Romance, Polyamory, Rivals that fuck and perform basic consent checks prior to getting down with it., Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 10:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19391827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sartorially/pseuds/Sartorially
Summary: It's not hard to quantify pitch romance, as a concept, when you're talking about a bunch of middle-aged motherfuckers that all went to high school together. But exploring the exact impact of a healthier approach than what's typical requires some intervention. The lustful kind.They fucking.





	no aftermath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [auxanges](https://archiveofourown.org/users/auxanges/gifts).



> _another pitch prompt...... (britney spears voice) shocking_   
>  _psii and dscar competing for sign and condys affections respectively, but falling into pitch with the others target....and each other........much 2 think about ___

Hands don’t seem to belong to anyone at this point. Fingers slipping over skin, features twisting in a myriad of emotions that are broader than any spectrum. His eyes crinkle in mirth when he lands a cheeky nip on a strong shoulder, prompting Ampora’s disgusted sneer. It rolls off that proud face seconds later, mollified as he is by the snap of his attacker’s hips and the plush press of Vantas to his lips.

Eyes fall shut. At ease, calm, not aware of his kisser smiling like a cat caught in cream. His powerful thighs ripple with another roll from behind, Peixes grinning shark-sharp with her beartrap maw mere inches from his jugular. She’s dangerous, as she well knows, but the men of her life can nearly taste the supple slide of her thighs. Taken aback by their interactions, consumed by lust and this overwhelming thing called _want_.

Needing, his heart pounding, his mind roiling in his deep-seated indignation, but every flick of Vantas’ thick wrist pulls another conviction from his skull. Easy, easy, a battle of wills that he’ll lose as often as he wins. It’s one against three, two against two, all against none. Finish line and start all at once, his pearly end staining the sheets under Peixes’ knees seconds before Captor bites deep in his throat.

Is it the copper tang on his tongue that prompts him forward now? Feverish, leaning against Ampora’s chest with perfect curvature rocking deeply in his gut, to push his teeth against his old friend’s lips. Fuck, how did they end up like this? Strung between power and pride, fame and fortune, black and red. He sees red when she cups his stomach, purrs her desire to scratch him open, and he retaliates with his nimble hands.

Tucked beneath his sack, where she’s gone still, under the harness to rub tight circles in soaked folds, and she _shakes_ for him. Her lips peel back from her canines, perfectly round, in orgasmic bliss just seconds before Captor, lithe and brittle, fists his fat length. God, they’re hot. Between Ampora’s overstimulated whimpers— but not to stop, never to stop, hold and fuck him _pretty_ —and the tight expression ruling Vantas, creasing his brows? He never stood a chance. His gut churns, the knot pulls taut, and he spills with tacky wet over his palm, lost in satisfied half-lids just seconds before—

“Would you stop starin’ int’ space ‘n pull _out_ already.”

“Pardon?” in low tenor, sex-roughened enough to flush Ampora down to the ribs.

“He’s fished ‘cause we fucked up his good sheets.”

“Fished,” he intones, amused by her choice but unsurprised.

Vantas groans, low in his throat, when she pulls out of him. Captor follows suit, and Ampora shudders in silent dedication. “I said what I said, guppy. Put y’re fine lispin’ lips to use and clean Momma up.”

Disgusted, his lay of the night rolls onto his back to start up at the ceiling. “You’re all fuckin’ disgusting.” Thick fingers ghost over the neat trim of his pelvis, deep into groomed hair to circle the base of a half-hard cock. “Moral damn degenerates.”

“And you the presider. Kiss me.” Vantas brooks no argument, looming above and bending low. There’s no small amount of arousal to be felt when they inadvertently find themselves matching the wet strokes not six inches away, out of sight but not out of mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Bro, it's 1AM. I promise that I'll treat you some fat ones after I fake my death for tax evasion purposes.


End file.
